An Unfinished Song
by molly2012
Summary: AU. Dr Maura Isles once spent time in Africa with Médicins Sans Frontières, where she met US Army officer Jane Rizzoli. Five years later, after it all went wrong in a war-torn refugee camp, fate has thrown them together again in Boston. Can they take this second chance, or is it too late?
1. Chapter 1

_So... a little different from what I normally write, but I thought I'd throw it out there and see how it goes! Hope you enjoy, and that you'll let me know if you do :). It will be a multi-chapter fic, and I'll try and update as often as I can. I should maybe also mention that I've never worked with MSF or been in those kinds of situations. I've done as much research as I can, but I apologise in advance if I've got anything wrong! _

_And - on a different note - a massive THANK YOU to whoever nominated me for the Rizzles fanfic awards :). It really means a lot. _

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Rizzoli & Isles, or any of the characters (unfortunately). **  
_

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When anyone mentioned the word 'Africa' to Dr. Maura Isles, the first thing that she remembered was the sun.

During the day, it was searing. It never seemed to rise so much as march over the horizon every morning, already radiating a fierce heat that just got more intense as the day wore on. With little or no natural shade outside, the only escape was into the run-down, tin or mud shacks of the village, and the camp that had sprung up around it, but they offered little respite. In fact, Maura had often thought that the walls actually seemed to suck in warmth from the sweltering air surrounding them. It didn't help that the hospital, such as it was, had no air conditioning. Every last bit of electricity had to be used for running the few machines that they had, and Maura couldn't remember a day going past when she wasn't dripping with sweat by mid-morning. The other doctors had told her that she would soon get used to it, but she never had. And, in her memories, the sun was always glaring. She knew that there would have been cloudy days, and she even had some flashing images of the dirt and sand turning to mud - so there had to have been rain. But she could never remember that properly. It was always the sun.

She remembered that the heat did not get any more bearable at night. The harsh temperatures of the day cooled slightly when the sun dropped below the horizon, but the air always seemed to stay sticky and oppressive. Maura could recall lying on her back on the small camp-style bed that was shrouded in a mosquito net, trying not to move too much because movement generated yet more heat. Her room, shared with two other doctors, was directly above what they optimistically called the 'ward', and so nights were filled with indeterminate sounds from the sick and injured. Crying, the odd moan from someone in pain or who couldn't sleep. And hushed, muffled noises from the rest of the camp, and the scrubby African bush beyond.

The other thing that immediately came to mind about Africa was the flies. She had never known anything like it. Some days it wasn't so bad, but other days there were clouds of them - and, instead of being repelled by her extra-strength DEET lotions and sprays, they actually seemed to like them. In the end, like the other medical aid workers who had been there for far longer, she just gave up. Anti-malarial precautions were the most important, and as long as she didn't attract mosquitoes, she could cope with a few flies.

It couldn't have been any more different to where she was working now.

The sun never penetrated down to the morgue in the Boston Police headquarters. There were no windows, and so Maura never even knew whether the sun was shining or not unless she went upstairs. The temperature was strictly controlled, and instead of spending her working day drenched in sweat, she was neither too hot nor too cold. There were no flies. No sandy dirt that turned to mud in the rain. Instead of pulling on the nearest pair of khaki shorts and tank top to go to work in, she was able to indulge her love of designer clothes, knowing that she had the luxury of scrubs to change into, and a lab coat, and a dry cleaner down the street. And her patients never moaned in distress. They never writhed in pain on the cold steel tables, never screamed in terror when she gave an injection or made an incision, and Maura could help them. She could speak for them when no one else could - or would.

Help was what she had wanted to give in Africa. And yet, for the six months that she was there, she had never felt so helpless in her life.

Of course, she remembered other things as well. She often thought of the doctors and nurses who had worked alongside her, and she thought of the people that she had treated, or tried to treat. Although most of them had merged into a faceless, shifting mass in her memory, a few stood out clearly - faces, illnesses or injuries, sometimes even names. And always their voices. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when sleep eluded her, she could still hear them. Lying on cool, crisp sheets, surrounded by all the comfort and luxury of the home that she had created for herself before she left, she would find that the memory consumed her whether she wanted it to or not. Often it would be several minutes before the harsh African sun turned back into the darkness of her bedroom, and then she would be left with a vaguely unsettled, guilty feeling that would keep her awake until the grey dawn broke through the curtains.

But there was one voice that she heard more than the others.

Jane Rizzoli hadn't been a patient, or a colleague. She had been an American army officer, and had arrived with the international peacekeeping force three months into Maura's stint with Médicins Sans Frontières. To start with, Maura had tried to ignore the presence of the soldiers. It was just another reminder of how close she was to the civil war that had created the camp in the first place, and she preferred not to think about that. Her priority was caring for anyone that needed her help, not the reasons that they were there. But slowly, day by day, week by week, Jane Rizzoli had seeped into her consciousness. There were regular patrols around the hospital - part of the peacekeeping mandate to secure a safe environment for humanitarian assistance - and, after a while, she had begun to notice a small smile of recognition on the Lieutenant's face whenever they passed each other. Tentatively, Maura had begun to return it. Smiles had turned into greetings, snatches of conversation had extended into longer chats over coffee - or what passed for coffee - and then coffee had become meals that were lingered over not because of the food, but because of the company and the luxury of having a spare hour to try and relax. And gradually, Maura's hesitancy and uncertainty around her new companion had melted away.

She had often thought how ironic it was, that she had made her first real friend in such uncompromising, difficult circumstances. But, when she thought of Africa, it wasn't just the heat and the flies and the hospital that came to her mind.

It was Lieutenant Jane Rizzoli.

She couldn't pretend that she hadn't begun, secretly, slightly guiltily, to think about more than friendship. She couldn't deny that she had found Jane very attractive, and there had been times when she thought that she had felt the same vibe coming from Jane. And even when she hadn't been able to shower, and her hair was greasy and she was exhausted and suffering from the perpetual upset stomachs that plagued everyone, Jane had managed to make her feel better. Jane had made her feel wanted. Jane had, somehow, known what to say to make her laugh when she had been ready to cry. And Jane had - perhaps without meaning to - made her feel like a woman again, in a place where all femininity had been stripped away.

But Maura had never had the chance to find out whether Jane had meant it or not. Like so many other things, their friendship - along with whatever else it might have grown into - had ended abruptly late one night in November, after days of escalating rumours and heightening tensions. No one had really known until that morning that the rebels were definitely heading for the area and, after that, things had happened so quickly that Maura hadn't had a chance to really take in what was happening until it was too late. She had realised that an evacuation order had been given for all American citizens in the region. But, for some reason, it hadn't registered that 'American citizen' meant her too. She had thought that her status as an aid worker would protect her. She had thought, as a doctor and as a member of an international charity, that she would be safe.

It wasn't until she had been ordered to leave, or lose her diplomatic protection, that she had finally understood. She didn't have a choice.

She had known, deep down, that Jane hadn't had a choice either. She had given Maura the order as an officer in the United States Army, not as Maura's friend. But, at the time, it had felt like a betrayal. Jane had been the only one who knew how much this work really meant to Maura. Maura had come to Africa to make a difference, and, after six months, she hadn't even scratched the surface. And yes, if she was honest, she felt like she had something to prove. Everyone who knew her had been horrified when she had announced that she was leaving for a war-torn refugee camp, and so she wanted to show that she could do it, and that she could stick it out and not just run home when things got tough.

And she had grown to really care.

She had told Jane to leave without her. She had expected some opposition, but ultimately a recognition that Maura was a grown woman who could make her own decisions, however stupid they were. What she hadn't expected was for the ultimatum to be delivered quite so harshly. Neither had she expected Jane to threaten to pack Maura's things for her before throwing her personally into a UN Jeep that was headed for the airport, two hundred kilometres away. Stunned, Maura had eventually complied. But she had also been too astonished, too hurt, too bewildered - and then, too angry - to speak to Jane on the journey. Six hours in a Jeep followed by another eight in a Boeing 747 cargo plane with turbulence...all without speaking a word to Jane. She had pretended to sleep, although sleep was impossible. She had, uncharacteristically, chatted to the three Belgian peacekeepers who were travelling with them, communicating seamlessly in French and leaving Jane out of the conversation entirely. She had tried to read the one book that she had brought with her, although that had soon started making her feel sick and she was forced to stop. Anything to avoid having to face the woman whom Maura had thought of as her best friend.

When they had landed in Germany, Maura hadn't seen Jane at the airport. She had disappeared, Maura assumed to a UN debriefing. She had had to go through a debrief of her own before being allowed onto a commercial flight back to Boston two days later...but still, no Jane. By that time, Maura's anger had started to dissipate somewhat. She had wanted to see Jane, to apologise, and to try and explain why she had reacted the way that she had. She had wanted to see if their friendship could survive a change in location and circumstances - if it might develop into something more. But, although she asked around, she hadn't been able to pin Jane down. And it wasn't until she was on a plane heading for home that she had realised that she would probably never see Jane again.

Two weeks after she had returned, she had opened an email from MSF to see photos of a massacre. The camp where she had been working, caught in the crossfire when the rebels passed through. Hundreds dead, hundreds more injured.

She had been physically sick.

In the weeks that followed, Maura had been clinical and detached enough to recognise the signs that she was struggling. The sleepless nights. The overwhelming feelings of guilt - guilt that she had treated Jane the way that she had, when Jane had probably saved her life by forcing her to leave, and guilt over not having stayed. Logically, she had known that it was a ridiculous notion to have, but she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that, if she had only stayed, she might have been able to save more lives. She might at least have been able to help her colleagues who were still there.

She had been offered counselling from MSF. But the only person that she had really wanted to talk to had been Jane. Somehow, she had felt like only Jane would really get what she was going through. Only Jane would be able to help her through it properly. But she had pushed Jane away, and she had no way of making it right.

So she had got herself through it like she always had done. She had worked. God, she had worked. She had carried on with her life where she had left off, moved back into her house and taken the dust sheets off all the furniture, and buried herself in work. No longer able to face the emotional turmoil that came with treating live patients, she had taken a job as assistant to the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. She never went out. She didn't really make any friends. She was always the first to arrive in the mornings, and the last to leave at night, always the one to volunteer to work on weekends and holidays when her colleagues just wanted to be at home with their families. And now, five years later, she had replaced the retired Chief, and she thought that she could probably be proud of what she had achieved. The title was hers. The smart office was hers. She was successful. Respected. And, finally, she felt like she was really making a difference.

But she also felt alone.

Lonely.

Maura always tried hard not to think about Jane. It had been an episode in her life, that was all. It was over. She had made mistakes, but there was nothing she could do about them now. She couldn't change the past, no matter how much she wished, in those early morning hours when she couldn't sleep, that she could.

And there had been times when she had wished really, really hard. Like a child closing their eyes on Christmas Eve and wishing for Santa to come down the chimney and bring exactly the right gift, Maura had squeezed her eyes shut as she buried her face into her pillow and wished for time to turn back, for a second chance. For something to bring Jane Rizzoli back into her life again. For some kind of miracle.

But, being a scientist, Maura didn't believe in such things.

Yet today, some kind of miracle had happened. Someone, somewhere, had seen fit to give her a second chance.

She wondered if she would remember this day in years to come, like she could still remember that day she had left Africa. Today was also a November day. A cold one, though, drizzly and slightly misty - or at least, it had been when she had arrived at work that morning. It was now mid-afternoon, and she hadn't left the morgue to see if it was still as miserable outside. A normal day in many respects, with paperwork and coffee and lab results. The morgue was quiet, a good third of the refrigerator space unfilled. They had a car crash victim. A stabbing. The unclaimed body of a homeless man who had died on a park bench. And a soldier - a cadet who had been washed up in Boston harbour two days before. It had saddened Maura beyond belief to have to do that autopsy. Normally, she didn't - couldn't- let it affect her. But something about that cadet had touched a nerve. Maybe it had been the fact that he had no family that they could trace, or the fact that he was only twenty. But when the DoD had called with a request to release the body, she had been only too glad to agree. Besides, there was no reason not to. It had been a simple drowning, a suicide while he had been in Boston visiting friends on a three-day leave. And now the army wanted the paperwork verified and the matter closed, and had notified Maura that a liaison would be coming from the West Point Military Academy, where the cadet had been training, to sort out whatever needed to be sorted.

Maura hadn't even blinked that morning when she had read, in the email, the name of the liaison who would be coming. Perhaps it hadn't registered properly. Or perhaps she hadn't quite believed it. But now her heart was thudding in her chest as she straightened up in her office chair. She felt the nerves gathering in her stomach as she stripped off the top sheet of the notepad she had been writing on, and carefully placed it into the waste bin before turning to face the entrance to her office, and the tall, khaki-clad figure who filled the doorway. Willing her voice to stay steady, balling her hands into fists on her lap and digging her fingernails into her palms, she took a deep breath.

'Lieutenant Rizzoli'. She swallowed. 'It's been a long time'.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow. Thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews! They really mean a lot, and I'm glad people are enjoying this! _

___One guest reviewer asked whether Jane and Maura wouldn't have exchanged contact details in Africa - in other words, why has it taken so long for them to meet up again. My feeling on this was that yes, they probably would have done on a basic level (Jane would have known Maura lived in Boston, Maura would have known which regiment Jane was with, and that she came from Boston). But I also felt that, after something like that had happened to drive them apart so badly, it would have taken enormous courage to make the first move. In this story, Maura doesn't have it, and Jane was too stubborn. This does come up again later, and I hope it's not too out of character for anyone. I know first-hand how hard it can be when bad feeling, and then time, come between people. It's not meant to be a bad reflection on either of the characters - just a view of how life can happen sometimes._

___I should also apologise, since I meant to have this updated sooner, but life threw me a bit of a curveball this week and, unfortunately, it's not likely to get better any time soon. So I hope you'll forgive me if future updates aren't any quicker - I promise I'll be working on it as much as I can :). _Hope you enjoy this one. 

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_'Captain'. _

But it took Maura a moment to register that the woman standing in front of her had spoken at all.

She hadn't changed in the slightest. Her dark hair was drawn back in a severe military-style bun, but Maura could see that, let loose, it would still be wild, curly and slightly frizzy. She still had the same lithe, athletic figure, and she was just as tall - although really, Maura thought, it was silly to have noticed that. Jane was hardly likely to have shrunk. And she still had the same deep brown eyes.

It was those eyes that held Maura now, as, despite her pep talk to herself earlier, she found her nerves getting the better of her. Jane's face was a mask of professionalism, a blank canvas that gave nothing away. But her eyes told a different story.

'Captain'.

The single word finally made its way through from Maura's ear to her brain, and she blinked.

'I'm sorry?'

'It's Captain Rizzoli'. Jane gestured to the two silver bars on her collar. 'I got promoted about two years ago'.

But the wry tone of that throaty voice - another thing that hadn't changed - told Maura that Jane wasn't annoyed. In fact, Maura got the impression that she didn't really care one way or the other. The comment had just been a typically-Jane way of trying to break the ice, and she felt her heart slow down a little. Maybe this would be okay after all.

'Sorry'. She smiled, trying to do her bit as well. 'Captain Rizzoli. Congratulations'.

Jane shrugged, still standing stiffly in the doorway. 'It was about time. But thanks'.

Maura nodded, but Jane didn't speak again. Instead she cast her gaze around Maura's office, those eyes lingering over the pot plants, the bookshelves, the designer chair in one corner. And Maura was suddenly unsure as to how to proceed. Should she ask Jane whether she wanted to see the cadet's body? Read the autopsy report? Sign the paperwork?

Should she ask her how she had been, what she had been doing?

Should she do what she had wanted to do for the past five years and apologise?

Trying not to panic, she reasoned that she should perhaps offer her condolences first. After all, Jane might well have known or mentored the cadet who had died, and even if she hadn't, Maura knew that she would still see him as a kind of kin.

'I'm sorry'.

Even to her ears, that had sounded odd. A bit lame. But Jane seemed to get what Maura was talking about, what she meant.

She always had done.

'Thanks. He was a good kid'. Her eyes finished their tour of the office, and came to rest again on its occupant. 'He drowned?'

Maura took that as her cue to get down to business, and she pushed her chair back to stand, giving herself a mental shake and forcing her concentration and focus back to the case in hand. Jane was here for professional reasons. Nothing more.

'Yes'. She picked up a copy of the autopsy report that had been ready on her desk, and walked around to hand it to Jane. 'There was no sign of any third-party involvement. No bruising, no trauma. It's been recorded as a suicide'. She paused. 'The homicide team wasn't able to trace any family'.

Jane nodded as she took the folder from Maura. 'Didn't have any'. She flipped it open and scanned the first page. 'Parents died when he was young. He was brought up by his grandmother, who died when he was sixteen. No brothers or sisters'. She shook her head and, for an instant, a flicker of anguish moved across her face. 'God. What a waste'.

Maura nodded. She guessed, from that, that Jane had known him. She also guessed that the army had become his family, and that the verdict of suicide would hit a lot of his fellow cadets hard. She couldn't claim to know how they would feel. But she could imagine. And it wasn't pleasant.

There was silence for a few moments while Jane moved through the rest of the folder, her face betraying none of her shock and dismay as she looked over the detailed autopsy photographs, x-rays, and lab reports, and Maura moved quietly back to her desk. Sitting down again meant that the table acted as a barrier between her and Jane, and made her feel a bit less exposed, while shifting the papers around on her desk gave her still-shaking hands something to do. Every so often she would glance up at Jane, who continued to stand by the open door and read, and had to repeat the little mantra that she had started when the other woman first came in. _She's here for professional reasons. Nothing more_.

For some reason, that thought hurt her.

She knew she couldn't justify that feeling. She was the one who had been at fault all those years ago, and she was the one who had failed to apologise. She was the one who had walked away. Yet here, now, she couldn't find the words or the courage to bring up the subject that, to her, was beginning to feel like the big white elephant in the corner of the room.

She realised that a part of her had been hoping that Jane would have both. But, it seemed, Jane did not.

Maura knew that the twinges of rejection and dejection that stabbed at her were unreasonable. She knew it was silly to have hoped, however deep down, that Jane would still be able to read her like a book. And she knew it was selfish to want Jane to make it easier on her. After all, Jane had probably not chosen to come here. She would just have been following someone else's orders and besides, she had a job to do. A job that was incredibly hard.

That thought made Maura feel even worse.

_She's here for professional reasons. Nothing more_.

She waited until Jane was on the last page before speaking, praying that she could put enough backbone into her voice to stop it wavering.

'You can take that copy. Will someone be in touch about releasing the body?'

Jane looked slightly startled as she raised her gaze to meet Maura's, her brown eyes once more communicating everything that she refused to let show on her face. In a flash, Maura could see the sadness, the lingering nerves, the slight hurt at Maura's clipped professionalism. And, suddenly, she couldn't help wondering if Jane had also fretted about what to say, and how to behave. Had Jane felt her heart pound, felt butterflies take off in her stomach as she had approached Maura's basement office? Had she worried over whether to bother with pleasantries, whether to mention Africa, whether to ask if Maura ever thought about what had happened?

Suddenly, Maura realised that she probably had.

'I can do that now'. Jane shut the folder, her tone matching Maura's. 'I'm not heading back until tomorrow, but if everything's cleared then we can get the funeral arrangements underway. So if we can get the paperwork done now...?'

Maura nodded slowly. Jane's meaning was clear. Get the paperwork done, so that the army could have their boy back, and so that Jane could be out of Maura's hair.

Automatically, she stood up and walked over to her filing cabinet, where she kept all the relevant forms. As she opened a drawer and pulled out the sheets of paper, her stomach was tying itself in knots. She felt like screaming. Everything that she wanted to say was threatening to tumble out, but she couldn't seem to force the words past the lumps in her throat, and she still wasn't sure that Jane would want to hear it anyway. The other woman obviously wanted to go.

Maura could feel that second chance slipping away, and she couldn't seem to reach out and catch it.

'Here'. She turned and placed the forms on her desk, while Jane moved across the room and took the pen Maura handed her. 'Sign there...and there'.

Jane scribbled her signature on the lines that Maura had indicated, and carefully placed the pen back on the desk. 'That it?'

Maura nodded. 'Yes. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call. We'll keep the body here until you've made arrangements'.

'I'll sort that today'. Jane straightened up, and, when she looked at Maura, her eyes were unreadable for the first time since she had entered the office. 'Thanks for your help'.

Maura blinked, and swallowed. Every cell in her body was urging her to reach out, physically if she had to, and stop Jane from leaving so soon again, but something stopped her. Pride, maybe. A bullish stubbornness that said if Jane wasn't going to make the effort, then neither was she. And a niggling fear of being pushed away, of Jane confirming that she wanted nothing more to do with Maura and didn't want to revisit old wounds.

'You're welcome'.

It took her a moment to realise that Jane was the one reaching out, her hand outstretched towards Maura with something held in her long fingers. And slowly, Maura reached out and took the small card, careful not to let skin brush skin.

'My cell number and office line at the academy'. Maura looked up from the card to Jane. 'In case you need to contact me about anything else. If something turns up, or there's something we've missed'.

Maura looked back down at the card. The numbers were all there, the right length for a cell number, the right prefix for a New York line. And yet she couldn't quite believe it. Surely she was not going to get a third chance at this?

She slowly looked up at Jane. There was no emotion on the brunette's face but, once again, Maura could see it in her eyes. Jane never had been able to hide it completely.

Something else that hadn't changed.

'Of course'. She tried to keep her voice steady, professional, and from Jane's curt nod, she thought that she had probably succeeded. It wasn't until Jane had left the office, her footsteps receding up the corridor and finally disappearing altogether with the ping of the elevator doors, that Maura allowed herself to sink back down into her chair and release the breath that she felt she had been holding ever since Jane had arrived.

She didn't know how long she sat there. An hour, maybe more. It was only when one of the lab assistants knocked on the still-open door to ask her for something that she roused herself, and forced her mind back to work. Jane had been. And gone.

And left her a lifeline that she was clinging onto, quite literally, as her fingers gripped the card that was now in her jacket pocket and refused to let go.


	3. Chapter 3

_A much shorter chapter, but the next one won't be long in coming. Hope you enjoy :)_

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Maura kicked off her heels and stood, her coat still on and her purse still slung over her shoulder, her fingers resting on the light switch that would illuminate the spacious kitchen and living area of her home. But, instead of flicking the switch, she looked around her, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as she listened to the silence. It was a silence that she was used to. She came home to it almost every night, and it was familiar, almost comforting. It told her that everything was as it should be, that nothing untoward had occurred while she had been out, and tonight, as usual, it was broken only when she strained her ears to hear the faint sound of the clock ticking in the living area, the low hum of the heating system, the almost-inaudible clicking of the timer that regulated the hot water. Everything was normal, everything was as it should be.

And yet, for some reason, it didn't feel right.

The silence that usually reassured her now felt oppressive and strange and, even when the light bathed the room in a warm, homely glow, she could feel the familiar surroundings begin to unsettle her instead of providing the solace and comfort that they usually did. And it took her a moment to think that perhaps it was because everything was the same. Everything was just as she had left it that morning - the stack of journals on the coffee table that she had yet to read, the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, the empty coffee cup that she had forgotten to put into the dishwasher that morning. The sweet, fresh scent of the lilies that she had bought a couple of days ago still hung in the air. Her gym bag still sat near the door, placed there deliberately where she could see it, to remind her that it was at least a week since she had been. Nothing had changed...except her.

Since she had left that morning to go to work, she had grown older, if only by a few hours. She had learnt things, she hade experienced things. She wasn't usually one for too much emotion, but she felt like seeing Jane again had sparked something within her. It had made her come alive. She felt elated, terrified, and nervous all at once, and her fingers still kept going to the little card in her pocket as if it was some sort of talisman, a symbol of fate, of destiny - even though the Maura Isles that had left home that morning didn't believe in such things.

Suddenly, the house felt like it belonged to that Maura. This new Maura felt a bit like a trespasser, and, as she stood in the doorway, she felt a sudden yearning to go back, for things to be as they had been just a few hours ago - even though she knew that would be impossible.

Walking over to the kitchen counter, she dropped her purse down on the floor and automatically reached for the coffee cup, placing it carefully into the dishwasher before looking around again, as if making sure that she hadn't left anything else lying around. Seeing nothing, she suddenly felt at a loss. The whole evening seemed to stretch ahead of her, and she had no idea what to do with it. Eating, reading, watching television...it all seemed too ordinary after the day that she had had, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to settle. So instead of trying, she poured herself a glass of wine, shrugged out of her coat, and went through to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes. If she was going to feel restless and on edge, at least she could put on something more comfortable.

Stripping down to her underwear, she carefully hung her jacket and dress in the closet before choosing a pair of loose black yoga pants and a dark grey top. Her bare feet padded on the carpet as she walked back towards the bed, the thick pile soft and luxurious underneath her skin and, as she slipped the silky fabric over her head, she found herself replaying her conversation with Jane for what seemed like the hundredth time. What she had said. What she wished she had said. What Jane had said.

_'I'm not heading back until tomorrow'_.

Jane had said that.

That meant that she was still in Boston tonight.

Maura sat on the edge of her bed, wine glass in hand, staring at the closet where her jacket now hung, the card with Jane's cell number on still in the pocket. The fingers of her free hand tapped on her knee, repeating the same nervous pattern over and over again. To call? Or not to call?

She could think of a hundred reasons why she shouldn't. And only one reason why she should.

She had loved Jane. And she still did.

She had loved her as a friend, as her only friend. And she had begun to love her as something more - something that right now she couldn't define. But, for once, Maura felt like definitions didn't matter.

Suddenly decisive, she placed her glass on the bedside table and stood up. The Maura that had left this room that morning would probably not have done what she was about to do. And, she thought wryly, she maybe shouldn't be doing it after almost a glass of wine on an empty stomach. But anything was better than pacing her house until the sun came up, thinking and worrying and wondering what might have been.

The card firmly in her grip once more, she headed back through to the kitchen and punched the numbers into her cell phone quickly before she could change her mind. Her heart pounded in her ears and her stomach began to tie itself in knots again, but, almost immediately, she heard the ringing stop and a husky voice take its place.

'Rizzoli'.

Maura took a deep breath.

'Jane? It's...' She swallowed. Was this really a good idea?

Even if it wasn't, it was too late now.

'It's Maura'.


	4. Chapter 4

Maura pushed open the door of the coffee shop and paused, letting it swing shut behind her as she pulled off her gloves and scanned the tables slightly anxiously. It was busy, the lunch hour fully underway, and the loud buzz of conversation felt like an assault on her ears after a morning spent in the peace and quiet of her office.

She wasn't there.

Thank God.

Exhaling slowly, she moved to one side to allow a middle-aged man to exit with his take-out coffee, and tucked the gloves into her purse. She had deliberately arrived ten minutes early, wanting time to compose herself before Jane got there, but had suddenly panicked as she had left the morgue. What if Jane had had the same idea, and also arrived early?

Obviously, she hadn't.

Maura joined the end of the short line, and waited patiently to order her coffee - a latte with skim milk. She would wait until Jane arrived for food, although she wasn't sure that she would be able to eat anything. As the hands on her watch ticked slowly but surely around towards twelve-thirty, she felt butterflies awaken in her stomach and, as she paid and carried her cup over to a free table, even the coffee seemed like a bad idea.

The whole thing seemed like a bad idea.

Jane had not sounded surprised to hear from her the evening before. She had not been impatient when Maura had hesitated and stumbled over what to say, and she had not blown Maura off when Maura had asked about meeting socially while Jane was in Boston. On the contrary, lunch had been Jane's suggestion - she had, she explained, been on her way to see her parents when Maura had called, but that she was not leaving until the evening the following day, if Maura could manage to get away for something to eat or a coffee.

Maura had replied that she could get away for both. And so here she was, at the coffee shop just around the corner from the police headquarters, her stomach tying itself in knots again as she wondered what, exactly, she was doing.

She wasn't wondering for very long. She had barely taken the first sip of her coffee when she spotted Jane by the door, doing just what she had done not five minutes before and scanning the room, sharp brown eyes flashing in recognition as they settled on Maura. Maura felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight as Jane smiled, asking with raised eyebrows and a gesture towards the counter if Maura was okay for a drink, and Maura managed to nod, holding up her mug. She watched as Jane moved towards the counter, saw her mouth moving as she ordered, but couldn't hear what she was saying. In Africa, Jane had always said that what she missed most was proper Italian food, and cappuccinos with full fat milk and chocolate sprinkles. Maybe, Maura thought, that's what she was getting.

Discreetly, she watched as Jane waited for her drink. It was the first time that she had ever seen Jane in civilian clothing, and her eyes roamed over the skinny jeans that covered impossibly long legs, the flat boots, and the brown suede jacket. When Jane turned to pick up her mug, Maura could see a flash of a red blouse underneath and, even though she had no idea what Jane usually wore on days off, for some reason she got the impression that the other woman had made an effort.

It had paid off.

Worried that Jane would catch her staring, Maura returned her eyes - but not her attention - to her coffee. She didn't often get coffee out. Not only did she prefer to watch her caffeine intake, but, by her own admission, she was incredibly fussy. The pure-blend ground Ghanian that she put her machine at home had spoilt her for anything else, and she usually stuck to herbal tea when she was out and about. This time, however, she barely registered the quality of the coffee, and she certainly wasn't worrying about not sleeping later that night.

'Hi'.

Maura was startled out of her thoughts - which were running something along the lines of 'she looks completely different with her hair down' - and looked up to see Jane already by the table, setting her mug down and unzipping her jacket.

It was a cappuccino. But...

'No chocolate sprinkles?'

Maura asked before she could help herself, and immediately regretted it. She hadn't meant to make an assumption, or to bring their previous history into the conversation so soon. Hastening to apologise, she only stopped when she saw Jane smiling in surprise.

'You remembered'.

Maura just nodded. She didn't want to embarrass herself even further by saying that she was pretty sure she could remember everything Jane had said to her. The cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles barely scratched the surface.

'So'.

Jane slipped out of her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair opposite Maura, before sitting down and pulling her mug towards her. Maura felt those brown eyes focus on her, and felt the hint of apprehension that they contained. She wasn't sure how to start things off - what to say, what to ask, how to act. And, suddenly, Jane seemed just as unsure as she was.

'So'.

Really, she just wanted to sit and look at Jane for a moment or two, but she had no intention of making Jane more uncomfortable than she already was. And so, with the hollow echo of that one word ringing around their small table, she frantically searched for something to say. Something appropriate.

'How have you...?'

'What are you...?'

They both stopped speaking at the same time, looking at each other for a couple of seconds that seemed like hours, before Jane started laughing and Maura felt her face break into a smile.

'You go first'.

'I was just gonna ask how you've been since...well. Since we last saw each other'. Jane was obviously still nervous and hesitant, but Maura could see the genuine warmth in her gaze, and she felt herself begin to relax slightly.

'Fine'.

It was her reflex response, given automatically whenever anyone asked how she was or how she had been. Usually, that was all people expected. They didn't really want to hear that she hadn't slept well the night before, consumed by memories that she would rather forget. They certainly didn't want to hear that, actually, she had bad period pain, or a headache, or that she was drowning in work. And, usually, she didn't want to elaborate.

It was therefore a few seconds before she realised that Jane was waiting for her to do just that.

'I, uh...' She took a deep breath. 'I've been fine. Good, actually'.

It wasn't strictly a lie, and she crossed the fingers of the hand that was resting on her knee under the table, hoping that the tell-tale red splotches wouldn't start spreading across her neck anyway. Hives always seemed to appear when she tried to lie...so she had found that she had become quite adept at stretching the truth. Anyway, she had been fine. Good, even.

Some of the time.

'Umm-hmm'. Jane paused to take a mouthful of coffee, and made a face. 'You're right, should have got sprinkles. So...how long have you been the Chief?'

'Just a year'. Maura was absurdly relieved that, this time, she didn't have to twist her answer to fit the facts. 'Doctor Pike -the old Chief - retired, and I'd been his assistant for almost three years. I was offered it as a temporary measure, and then it was made permanent six months ago'.

Despite herself, Jane looked impressed.

'And you?' Maura cradled her coffee mug as she looked over at Jane. 'You're at West Point?'

It was stating the obvious, but Jane nodded.

'Two tours of Afghanistan first. Now I'm in the IG's office'.

Maura looked blank.

'Inspector General'.

Jane said it as if it explained everything, as if 'Inspector General' meant more than 'IG', but Maura just raised her eyebrows.

'Troubleshooting. Mediating. Dealing with complaints, breaches of discipline on campus, that kind of thing'. Jane paused. 'Pen pushing'.

'Oh'.

It didn't sound like Jane, somehow, and the resigned, slightly embarrassed look in her eyes as she explained made Maura think that she was right - Jane would far rather be in an active role, despite having already done two tours. But she didn't like to ask. Maybe, she thought, she would get the chance another time.

'And I play on the hockey team'.

Now here, Maura was lost.

'Uh...pitcher?'

Jane blinked, before smiling as she realised - or remembered - that Maura had no clue about sports.

'Attacker. Pitcher's baseball'.

'Oh'.

'Still stuck on yoga, huh?'

It should have sounded derogatory, but coming from Jane it just sounded like another teasing remark, and Maura couldn't help another half-smile as she nodded and shrugged. Not long after they had first met, Jane had asked Maura whether she played any sports, and had teased her mercilessly when she had nodded enthusiastically. In Jane's book, yoga and fencing didn't count.

Maura no longer fenced. But she did still love yoga. It focused her mind, relaxed and strengthened her body, and - usually - left her feeling energised and refreshed. She had tried explaining that to Jane before. She had even demonstrated a few positions, right there by the water distribution point in the camp - much to the surprise and amusement of the women and children queuing for fresh bottled water. But she hadn't succeeded in convincing Jane that it was just as good for the body and mind as baseball or hockey.

It looked as though she never would.

They talked some more, flitting from one topic to another as they slowly finished their coffees. Neither of them thought about food and, once again, Maura could feel the time slipping away. Once again, she didn't want Jane to leave. She didn't want to think that Jane was heading back to New York that evening, and that this might be the last chance she would get. She had relaxed a bit - somehow Jane had always had that effect on her - but not enough to feel completely at ease, and she knew that her tension stemmed from the fact that she had things to say, but not the courage to say them. Wondering how she could broach the subject that they had both been skirting around for the last hour, she barely registered that the conversation had stopped, and that Jane had leaned forward slightly, her hand dangerously close to Maura's on the table top.

'Why did you really ask me to meet you, Maura?'

She couldn't lie. Nor could she fiddle with the truth again...and she found that she didn't really want to. Taking a deep breath, she felt almost absurdly grateful that Jane had done the hard bit for her and, trying to ignore the feeling of those deep brown eyes on her face, she finally said it.

'To apologise'.

Maura felt a twinge of relief as the words left her, but that was immediately replaced by a slight panic as she saw the look of total confusion on Jane's face.

'Apologise?'

Maura swallowed. 'To say...I wanted to say sorry'.

'Yeah, I got that bit...but why?' Jane's were brows knitted together, the questioning look still fixed on Maura. 'I haven't seen you in years for you to do anything wrong'.

'Exactly'. Maura met Jane's eyes. 'And you should have. What happened...it shouldn't have happened, and it's my fault'.

Jane didn't reply for a moment, and Maura could feel her panic rising. It was only then that she realised just how much she wanted Jane back in her life again. For five years, she had missed Jane. And she didn't want to hear that Jane had moved on, and that she had no space in her life for Maura any more. Really, though, Maura thought as she reached for her purse, she didn't deserve anything more.

But she had hoped. And she couldn't face the prospect of having that hope shattered.

'It doesn't matter'. She could no longer look at Jane as she pulled her coat from the back of her chair. 'I should really be getting back anyway. Thank you for coming, it was good to...'

She stooped abruptly as she felt Jane's hand on her arm. The brunette was reaching across the table, her touch preventing Maura from leaving, her face registering concern, and still the confusion, and something else that Maura couldn't quite place.

'Hey'. Jane's voice was soft, but commanding. 'Don't run away, Maura. Apologise for what?'

Maura felt like she was suspended in motion, with one hand on her purse, the other still gripping the sleeve of her coat, perched on the edge of her chair as if she was about to get up. Which she had been. But now Jane didn't want Maura to leave, and the touch of her hand was sending tingles down Maura's spine, and Maura couldn't think.

She could only blurt it all out.

'For treating you the way I did. You saved my life by making me leave the camp in Africa, and I cut you off for it. I blamed you for something...I don't even know what. I thought I could have saved more lives if I'd stayed, and you stopped me doing that. I was stupid, and selfish, and I was awful to you, and I'm sorry. And I wanted to see if there was any way you might let me back into your life again, because I've missed you'.

She had to pause to take a breath, but, when she raised her eyes, the shocked, astounded look on Jane's face prevented her from starting to speak again. Looking down, she noticed that Jane's hand had slid off her arm and was resting on the table, leaving her free to move if she wanted to. But she found that she didn't. Couldn't. So she just sat there, half on and half off her chair, waiting for Jane to say something. Waiting for Jane to tell her whether to leave or to stay.

Finally Jane blinked, and spoke. But her voice was so soft that Maura had to strain to hear it over the noise around them, and she wasn't sure that she heard correctly.

'You don't need to be sorry. I do'.

Now it was Maura's turn to look confused.

'What for?'

'You know what for'. Jane closed her eyes for a moment, and, suddenly, Maura did know. She knew what Jane was seeing, and she realised that Jane had suffered the same guilt over leaving that she had. Jane was seeing the same faces that she still saw sometimes at night, and was having the same, horrible doubt over whether she - they - could have made any difference.

This time, it was Maura who reached across the table, Maura's fingers that gently curled around Jane's hand. And she saw, in the flicker that crossed Jane's eyes, that despite everything they were talking about, Jane had felt that same tingle at the touch.

'Do you still think about them?'

Jane's voice was barely more than a whisper, but this time Maura had no difficulty in hearing her, and she nodded.

'Yes'. She paused, watching that sink slowly in. 'But you saved my life, Jane. If I'd stayed, I wouldn't be here now'.

She wasn't prepared for Jane's reply.

'Neither of us would be'.

* * *

_'Maura, you have to pack. Now'. _

_Maura looked around her, hearing the quiet urgency in Jane's voice but not quite able to take it in. All the beds in the "emergency room" were full, and more patients were queuing down the narrow hallway that led outside. Some were standing, some were squatting on the floor. Most had family with them, which just added to the crowding and general sense of confusion that was a permanent feature of this part of the hospital. She and her colleagues were rushed off their feet. They always were. And all of these people - every single one of them - needed her help. _

_'I can't leave, Jane'. _

_There had been rumours for days that the rebels were approaching the area. No one was really sure what to believe, and so no one had really been sure what to do. Information was patchy, at best, and while some people had packed up what belongings they had and left, most had stayed. Some were sick, and couldn't move. Some had family members who were sick, and wouldn't leave them. _

_Others just felt like they had nowhere else to go. _

_Up until that point, Maura hadn't been sure what to believe either. But Jane's arrival at the hospital had been unexpected; the grave, determined expression on her face even more so. Even in the worst situations, Maura had never seen her look so...serious. So commanding. Suddenly, she didn't look like Maura's friend. _

_'You don't have a choice'. _

_Jane didn't sound like Maura's friend, either. Maura had never heard that note of steel in the husky voice before. She had certainly never heard it directed at her, and it took her momentarily by surprise. Even if the rumours were true, surely Jane would see that she couldn't just up and leave?_

_'Of course I do'. She gestured around the room, down the hallway. 'If you've been ordered to leave, then you have to leave. But I'm staying. I can't just abandon all these people'. _

_And by that, she meant her colleagues as well. _

_She felt Jane's hand grip her arm. It wasn't a soft touch, as it had been the evening before. Then, they had been laughing over one of Jane's family stories, this time involving her brother Tommy and a fairground goldfish. Maura was never sure whether Jane's tales were true or not, or whether Jane exaggerated and embellished to make them more entertaining - but if she did, Maura didn't mind. They always made her smile. And last night, she had needed that. A hard day had been made better by Jane's words, Jane's laughter. Jane's touch. _

_Now, that same touch was making a hard day worse. _

_'Maura'. Jane's voice hinted that she would not take any more arguing. 'Get upstairs. Pack your things. There's a Jeep leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes, and we're going to be in it'. _

_'But...'_

_Jane's grip tightened. 'Listen to me. You're a woman. A foreigner. You will stand out like a sore thumb. At best, you'll be raped and left for dead, at worst you'll be killed outright. And the embassy cannot help you if you choose to stay. Understand?'_

_Maura just stood there, the emergency ward swirling around her, trying to take in everything Jane was saying. It sounded so unreal. Those kinds of things happened to other people on the television. She saw those kinds of things on the news...but they never happened to her. To people like her. And, she thought, Jane had got it wrong. To be killed outright would actually, in her opinion, be the better alternative. _

_And yes. She did understand. If she chose to stay, she would lose all diplomatic protection. Her embassy wouldn't be able to help her. She would effectively be stranded until she could get herself to safety...if it came to that. _

_It might not. _

_Did she want to take that chance? _

_'Jane, I...'_

_She was cut off by the harsh tone of Jane's next words. 'Do it, or I'll do it for you. I've been ordered to get American citizens out of here. I don't disobey orders. If I have to throw you into that Jeep myself, I'll do it'. _

_Maura stood in stunned silence, forcing herself to breathe. She could tell that Jane meant every word. Looking down at the hand that still gripped her arm, she pushed away the thought that, only last night, she had imagined those fingers doing something entirely different. She heard Jane's voice again, softer this time, but she couldn't make out the words and she wasn't about to ask Jane to repeat it. Instead, she steeled herself to look up, and willed her own voice to stay steady. Unemotional. _

_Like Jane had never been her friend at all. _

_'I can't go and pack until you let me go'._

_Jane didn't reply, but slowly let her hand drop from Maura's arm. Spinning on her heel, Maura walked away. Out of the ward, back up the stairs, her teeth gritted so that she wouldn't cry. She didn't want to have to go back down with a red and blotchy face for all the world to see._

_For Jane to see. _

_She never turned round, so she didn't see Jane's commanding face relax into a hurt, anguished grimace. She didn't see Jane run one hand over her face, shaking her head to herself, before she too walked out of the ward. _

_She didn't speak to Jane again._

* * *

It was only now, five years later in a noisy coffee shop, that Maura realised what Jane had said, what those words had been that she hadn't registered at the time.

'I'm not leaving without you'.

She heard Jane repeating them now - 'Neither of us would be. I wouldn't have left without you' - but the words rang round in her head as the rest of the coffee shop faded into the background. Jane wouldn't have left her.

She had cared.

And the tightening of Jane's fingers around hers told her that, despite the time and distance that had been put between them, Jane still did care.

More than she could say.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for all the follows and reviews!_

_I've been a bit slower (ok...a lot slower) in updating this story than I anticipated, and as a result we're a bit out of sync - this chapter should actually have been posted 2 or 3 weeks ago, around Thanksgiving. For various reasons - Christmas working hours, a sudden death in the family - I haven't had much time to write or to post, so I'm sorry about that. I'll do my best to catch up with myself, and at least get the next chapter posted before Christmas! _

_This is a bit of a 'filler' chapter, but a necessary one. I know this story is much more of a slow-burn than others I've written, but I promise we are getting somewhere, and there's plenty more to come! Hope you enjoy :). _

* * *

Maura shivered, and tucked her hands further down into her pockets. Despite her winter attire - padded coat, warm hat and gloves, fur-lined boots - the freezing wind seemed to slice its way through to her core, mercilessly seeking out any tiny chink in her armour and turning exposed flesh numb with cold. Waves crashed on the shore, sending a fine mist into the air that settled on Maura's face whenever she walked too close to the water-line, ignoring the warning cries of the gulls that wheeled overhead. The rest of the beach was deserted. Ahead of her, Maura could see the expanse of sand giving way to the rocky outcrops where she usually turned around, exactly three miles from where she had left her car. She knew, because she had done this walk several times before. But today she didn't want to stop walking. Her eyes were watering, and her nose was running, and her cheeks were frozen in the wind, but she didn't feel ready to go back just yet.

In the months following her return from Africa, Maura had often come here. On those days that she was not working, and was not on call, she had found herself drawn to the ocean, to the bleak emptiness of the beach in winter. She had gone when she needed space not to think, or to reason, or to make decisions, but to just be. And she had gone when she needed to feel small. When she needed more than anything to feel that what had happened to her wasn't as big or as terrible as it seemed - when she needed to see that, despite everything, the tide still turned and the waves still rolled. The vastness of the ocean had humbled her and, for a few precious hours, had reduced her and her memories to grains of sand.

Now she was here again.

It had been four days since she had seen Jane - four days in which she had not been able to get the brunette out of her mind. Snatches of their conversation kept replaying themselves in her head; small, throw-away confessions from Jane that had made her realise that she had not been the only one to struggle.

She had not been the only one to be scared, nor the only one to be stubborn.

_'I wrote to you'. _

_Maura was confused. She didn't think that she had ever given Jane her email address. _

_'I mean a letter'. Jane smiled, looking slightly embarrassed as she tried to make out that it hadn't been a big deal. 'Your address wasn't that hard to find'._

_A good, old-fashioned, snail mail letter. Maura couldn't imagine it, somehow._

_'I never got a letter'. _

_'I never sent it'. Jane looked down, fiddling with the hem on her shirt. 'I, uh...I didn't see the point'._

But Maura had understood. Part of Jane hadn't wanted to make it easier for her, and that same part hadn't wanted Maura to read about her pain through words on a page. That part of her had wanted Maura to feel it.

And Maura couldn't blame her.

On impulse, she had asked Jane if she still had the letter. She didn't know quite what had come over her - a wave of Dutch courage, perhaps, brought on by too much coffee - and she had certainly not expected the answer to be yes. Jane had kept it. To be more precise, she had kept them, since she had written more than once. Maura had just nodded. She hadn't asked what was in them, or why Jane had felt the need to keep them. But now she wondered if she would ever be able to read them, whether Jane would let her.

She wondered if she really wanted to.

She had been so deep in her thoughts that she hadn't realised that she was now at the rocks. They were slick with spray from the ocean and, even in her sturdy boots, she didn't particularly want to start clambering over them. Realising that she would have to turn around, she stood for a moment, letting the freezing, salty air sting her already-red cheeks. In a painful kind of way, it felt good.

There, on the deserted beach, she felt like she could finally admit that it was not just Jane's conversation that she couldn't get out of her mind. It was the way Jane had looked. Jane's smile. Jane's long brown hair that Maura had instinctively wanted to run her fingers through.

It was Jane's touch.

Her fingers had left Maura's skin tingling, almost aching for more. Even holding hands across the table, as friends comforting each other - if they could call themselves friends now - had sent a delicious little shiver down her spine. It hadn't surprised her; she had known that her attraction to the other woman hadn't faded. But it had shocked her when, looking up at Jane's face, she had seen it written there as well.

When they had left the coffee shop, Maura hadn't known quite what to do, how to wrap things up. Just saying goodbye and walking away seemed wrong, somehow. Shaking Jane's hand was far too formal. Air kissing...Jane would probably just laugh. Standing on the sidewalk, with Jane about to head in the opposite direction, Maura had once more begun to panic a little. And once more it had been Jane who had reached out. The hug that Maura had found herself enveloped in had been slightly awkward, as if Jane had been trying to pull her as close as possible before realising that more bodily contact was maybe not such a good idea. But it had been enough for Maura to feel Jane's hair brush her cheek, and to feel the warmth of Jane's face next to hers.

She had tried not to think about it too much at the time. Now, she couldn't think of much else.

Jane had asked if they could keep in touch. Speak on the phone. Meet up again. Maura had been only too happy to agree, but they hadn't made any firm plans. And, aside from a text message to say that she was back at West Point safely, Maura hadn't heard from Jane at all...although she hadn't really expected to, not yet. So the buzz of her cell phone, vibrating through the layers of her coat pocket with an incoming message, took her by surprise.

_Hi, you okay? Wondering if you've got plans next w'end...call me? J. _

Next weekend. Thanksgiving. Maura, as usual, had no plans apart from work. She had always worked the holidays, so that her colleagues with families could enjoy the time off, and she had just assumed that this year would be no different. She wondered why Jane was asking. Perhaps, she thought, as she pulled off her glove with her teeth in order to type a reply, Jane was coming back to Boston to spend the weekend with her family. A warm glow spread through her at the thought. Maybe they might be able to manage another coffee.

_I'm fine, but on the beach - call later? M._

Jane's answer came almost immediately.

_Beach? Are you crazy? Sure, call me later. J._

As she put the phone back into her pocket and pulled her glove back on, Maura felt a smile spread across her face. She probably was crazy, being on the beach in this weather. And she was now very, very cold. But somehow that didn't matter. Sticking her hands back into her pockets, she set off back down the beach, walking at a brisk pace to try and get some feeling back into her toes...and to try and get home that little bit quicker.

She really wanted to hear Jane's voice.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows! And for the condolences - it was lovely to get so many messages. This will be the last update until the New Year, so I hope everyone has a lovely Christmas! _

_Oh! And I had an early Christmas present this morning - my other story 'Sugar and Spice' won Best Fluff in the Rizzles Fan Fiction Awards! A massive THANK YOU to everyone who read it, liked it, and voted - it really means a lot. It's one of my favourite stories that I've written, so I'm so happy that other people have enjoyed it too! _

_Hope you enjoy this chapter - see you in the New Year! _

* * *

'So'. Jane's brown eyes twinkled at her from underneath a bright red bobble hat. 'You've never done this before?'

Maura took a deep breath, and shook her head. When Jane had suggested going ice skating one evening over the long weekend, she had agreed immediately without even really considering what she was agreeing to...although Jane could have suggested a football game followed by beer and burgers, and Maura would probably have agreed. She had just been so delighted to hear that Jane was coming back to Boston for Thanksgiving, and wanted to see her. But now, by the side of the rink at the Frog Pond, she wasn't so sure. She felt like she was kitted out for the Arctic, and was so well padded that she could barely walk. But even so, she could foresee all kinds of disasters. Cuts and bruises. Broken limbs. Frostbite.

Total, mortal embarrassment.

'It's easy', Jane was saying as she sat down on a bench and started pulling a skate on. 'Once you get the balance right'.

Maura didn't say that getting the balance right was exactly what she was worried about. Instead, she sat down next to Jane and held up her own hired skates. They looked terrifyingly sharp, and she grimaced as a sudden, vivid image of severed fingers popped into her mind. It was completely at odds with the laughing, happy voices and twinkling lights that surrounded her, and she wondered whether maybe, just maybe, she had been spending too long at work.

'You okay?'

She turned to see that Jane had already laced up her second skate, and was waiting for her to do the same. And, despite her misgivings over what lay ahead, she couldn't help but return the wide, slightly questioning smile that was directed her way.

'Fine. Sorry'.

As she bent over to put the skates on, Maura felt Jane's eyes on her. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it wasn't one she was used to either. Fumbling with the laces, it took her two goes to lace the right one up properly before turning her attention to the left, and she told herself not to be silly. But somehow, under Jane's gaze, she felt like she was turning from a grown woman out with a friend for the evening into a flustered, blushing schoolgirl with a crush.

She really hoped that Jane hadn't noticed.

'Ready?'

Maura checked her skates one more time. They were securely fastened, reasonably comfortable, and not quite as terrifying on her feet as they had been in her hand. 'Ready'.

She soon realised that the first hurdle was not finding her balance on the ice, but getting to the ice in the first place. Walking in ice skates was not as easy as it looked, even for the few steps it took to reach the rink, and she was quite proud of herself for not ending up face down before she'd even started. Placing one foot gingerly onto the ice, she gasped as she felt the skate start to slide. She would never be able to do this.

'Here'.

She felt Jane's hand on her arm, gripping her securely as she wobbled her way fully onto the ice, and the touch almost made her gasp again. It was natural, she supposed. Jane could skate, she couldn't. Jane was just trying to help her out in staying upright until she got the hang of it. She could hardly say that it was actually making her even more shaky, and that she would probably be better off holding onto the side of the rink until she found some sort of balance. So she smiled, and nodded her thanks, and let Jane lead.

It actually wasn't as bad as she had feared. She didn't fall over straight away, thanks largely to Jane keeping hold of her arm and, after a couple of circuits, she found that she was beginning to get into a rhythm, and find her own balance. After a couple more, she felt Jane's hand move from her arm. Obviously she had been doing well enough for Jane to be confident that she wouldn't topple over, and she was already missing the contact when Jane looked over, smiled, and slipped the hand into hers instead.

'See? It's easy'.

It was easy. So easy to go from being a complete beginner on the ice to being a sort-of novice. Even easier to make the subtle shift from holding the arm of a friend to holding the hand of a date. Gliding around the rink, feeling Jane's warmth even through her glove, Maura couldn't help laughing out loud at how unexpectedly easy it all was. She lost count of the number of circuits they had made, of how long they had been out there. She felt like she never wanted it to end. She didn't want to stop skating, didn't want to leave the ice because if she did, Jane would have to let go of her hand and everything would go back to the way it was before.

'Drink?'

It startled Maura, and she jumped slightly. Turning around quickly to look at Jane made her almost lose her balance, and it was only Jane's hand, firm in hers, that kept her upright.

'Whoa'. Jane laughed as she gripped Maura tighter, her hand moving back up Maura's arm. 'I was only offering a hot chocolate. Nothing to get excited about'. She gestured towards the small cafe, where there were a few people queuing for hot drinks and snacks in between skating sessions. Maura looked over and nodded, hoping that the blush she could feel creeping up her neck wasn't visible.

'That sounds nice'.

When she turned her head back towards Jane, she saw that the brunette was smiling at her. It was a gentle, indulgent smile that made Maura warm all over, all the way down to her thermally-insulated toes, and she couldn't quite believe that it was directed at her.

But she soon had to push thoughts of Jane's smile away as they drew nearer and nearer to the entrance to the rink.

'Uh, Jane?'

'Yeah?'

'How do I stop?'

She answered her own question by reaching out for the barrier with her free hand, suddenly panicking that they had reached the entrance to the rink and that if she didn't use the barrier to stop herself, she would sail straight through as if she had reached the top of an escalator. She had avoided falling over so far. She didn't want to start now.

It worked. Even through her padding, she thought she would probably have a bruise on her hip, but at least she was no longer moving. Jane had managed to do it a little more elegantly, and she grinned as Maura gingerly moved back onto normal ground.

'Like that'.

Maura reclaimed their place on the bench as Jane quickly unlaced her skates and went to queue for hot chocolate. Once again she found herself watching the brunette, just as she had done in the cafe, hoping that Jane wouldn't notice but unable to take her eyes away. And, once again, she couldn't help thinking that Jane was gorgeous. The red bobble hat suited her, her dark hair tumbling in waves from underneath it, and her cheeks had a rosy glow from the cold. Even the warm sweatpants she was wearing looked good - somehow, Jane managed to make them stylish.

Sexy.

'Here'.

Maura turned, a little guiltily, and hoped that her thoughts weren't written all over her face as she accepted the cup of steaming hot chocolate from Jane.

'Thank you'.

Jane settled down next to her on the bench, and Maura surveyed the ice as she sipped her drink. It was busy now - although she supposed that, on the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend, that was only to be expected - and they didn't have their bench to themselves for very long. Jane had to shift up to make room for a young couple who had just come off the rink, and Maura almost choked on her chocolate as she felt a leg press against hers.

'Have you worked all weekend?'

Maura swallowed, and quickly tried to cover her reaction to Jane's proximity and concentrate on the question. Weekend. Work.

'Yes'. She nodded. 'It wasn't that busy really. I caught up on some paperwork and emails, and I have some things to finish off tomorrow'.

'Tomorrow?' Jane's eyebrows were raised, and Maura shrugged. She didn't want to admit that she had nothing better to do on a holiday Sunday, but she suspected that Jane already knew that. So instead of admitting it outright, she asked a question of her own.

'You've been at your parents'?'

Jane nodded, and rolled her eyes. 'Yeah. Less said, the better'.

But Maura could see the affection that flashed across Jane's face, and felt a slight stab of envy. She had no family nearby. In fact, as far as she knew she had no family in the country. The last she had heard, her mother was in Italy, catching up with some old friends while her father closed yet another business deal in Madrid. Or maybe it was Paris. Maura lost track sometimes...and it wasn't as if she heard from them regularly.

She had to admit, though, that she didn't make the effort to contact them very much either. They didn't really understand her life and the choices she had made. And, as a mature teenager, she had discovered that she didn't really understand theirs. On those rare occasions when she did see them, it was often awkward. Stilted. It was best left alone.

But sometimes Maura wished things were different. She liked to think that, had her mother been a different mother - a different person - they would have spent the weekend together and Maura could have told her all about Jane. She could have confided the buzz she got whenever she saw her, the tingle that she felt whenever Jane touched her, and how she thought about her constantly. She could have wondered aloud whether what she was feeling was the deep attraction that she thought it was, and she could have asked whether it was okay to feel that towards another woman, because she never had before. In this little fantasy, Maura had a caring mother and a best friend all rolled into one, but she knew that it would never happen. So she couldn't help the pang of jealousy as Jane, despite her declaration that it was best forgotten, proceeded to tell her all about the weekend at the Rizzoli family home.

Maura didn't have a family home, and probably never would.

'According to Pa, Thanksgiving is the biggest toilet day of the year - you know he's a plumber, right? It even beats Christmas. So while he's sulking that he hasn't had a call-out yet, Ma decides that it would be a good idea to ask Tommy to carve the turkey instead of Pa, but...' Jane paused to take a breath, and to grimace slightly as the couple sharing their bench began to kiss. Maura could feel her trying to shift up a little bit more, but there was nowhere to go. Maura couldn't move up any further, or she would have fallen off the end of the bench, and so Jane just ended up pressed even more closely against her. It made trying to follow Jane's story very difficult.

'...Tommy had already had a few by then, and Frankie decided it wasn't safe for him to be waving a carving knife around...you okay?'

Maura started as she realised Jane was asking her.

'Fine'. She managed a smile. 'Carry on'.

'So in the argument that followed, someone let slip that none of us actually like turkey anyway, and that we'd all prefer Ma's gnocchi. She started yelling at us for not saying so before, Pa's still complaining about there being no plumbing emergencies, Tommy's accusing Frankie of calling him a drunk, Frankie's yelling at Tommy for being lazy...' She shrugged. 'Typical, really. We ended up having gnocchi with the turkey, and I carved'.

Despite herself, Maura had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

'And your father?'

'Got a call out halfway through dessert'. But Jane's grin faded a little as she looked at Maura. Her brown eyes looked dark and intense in the artificial glow of the lights, and, as much as a part of Maura wanted to turn away, to take the last mouthful of her chocolate and think of something to say - anything would do - she found that she couldn't. And just as she began to wonder, heart pounding, whether Jane was actually going to kiss her, she felt Jane's finger ever so lightly graze the side of her mouth where she had been biting her bottom lip.

'You look adorable when you do that'.

Maura couldn't reply. She couldn't think. It was all she could do to remember to breathe. There was no kiss. But the brief skin-to-skin contact left her shaking.

Adorable.

It wasn't a word that had ever been used to describe her before.

'You want another go?'

It took Maura a few seconds to realise that Jane was gesturing towards the rink. That look in her brown eyes had gone, and Maura took a deep, trembling breath. Maybe it was just as well. A busy ice rink was hardly the place and, given Jane's eye-rolling reaction to the couple next to them, she had probably thought the same thing. So Maura nodded, and smiled. She might have even managed a proper reply. But she was in a bit of a daze as she tightened the laces on her skates again, and threw her empty cup into the trash before following Jane back onto the ice.

Was it her imagination, or was Jane holding onto her hand more tightly than before? She didn't really need the support now, but Jane was skating close, her gloved fingers intertwined with Maura's as she led them diagonally across the rink and round. They chatted and laughed and joked as they skated, although, later, Maura couldn't have said what their conversation was about. She would remember that hour as like an impressionist painting rather than a clear sketch. A blurred picture of fun, and lights, and warmth despite the cold, and her hand in Jane's, and the faint tingle that remained where Jane had touched her. She would remember the vague feeling of anticipation, of excitement and terror at what might happen when they left the rink and had to say goodbye again, and the worry over what, exactly, she should do if Jane didn't do anything. Follow Jane's lead, as she had been doing all evening? Or do what she wanted to do, and kiss her anyway?

In the end, it was easy.

They had handed their skates back in and were heading across the Common, away from the rink, when Maura felt Jane's hand slip into hers again. Involuntarily, she shivered - it was the touch, not the frosty air, but Jane looked her, concern on her face.

'You cold?'

Maura shook her head, but, as she did so, Jane let go of her hand and moved her arm so that it was round Maura's shoulders, pulling her close as they continued to walk. Long dark hair brushed Maura's cheek, and she could feel the warmth from Jane's body even through all her layers. Her heart pounding, she realised that they were heading towards Charles Street, where she had left her car...and which was in the opposite direction to Park Street, where Jane had got off the subway.

'Uh, Jane?'

Jane slowed to a stop, her arm still around Maura.

'Yeah?'

She didn't want to say that Jane was going the wrong way, because she didn't really want Jane to leave. And besides, she guessed that Jane knew fine well that there was no subway near this side of the Common, which meant that Jane had come this way for a reason. But she didn't quite know how to ask what that reason was. So she kept it simple, and hoped that Jane would know what she meant.

'Subway'.

Maura forced herself to turn and meet Jane's gaze.

'I mean, you're going the wrong way for...'

She registered the flicker of a smile before she was cut off again, this time by Jane's finger gently, but firmly, over her lips.

'I know. I was gonna walk you to your car and then head back over'.

Maura blinked. The rush of warmth she felt at Jane's words was totally unexpected and didn't have anything to do with Jane's touch - at least, she didn't think it did. It was more the protective note in the other woman's voice.

She tried to speak but, because of Jane's finger still over her mouth, it came out as more of a mumble.

'You don't have to...'

Jane pressed down a little harder. 'I know'. She paused, and let her finger slide to the corner of Maura's mouth. 'I want to'.

And before Maura could take advantage of Jane moving her hand, and say that she really appreciated it, but she would be fine and she didn't want Jane to have to walk all the way back to Park Street by herself...before she could say that if Jane really insisted, then the least Maura could do would be to give her a lift home...Jane's lips brushed where her finger had been, soft and light as a feather, and this time Maura did forget how to breathe. For a second, everything seemed to stop. She couldn't think, and she couldn't speak. Even the hard, rapid beat of her heart against her ribs seemed to pause before resuming pounding even harder and faster than before. Jane's hand was firm on her back, holding her close as if Jane was afraid she would run, and she saw the slight flicker of uncertainty in Jane's eyes before it disappeared, replaced by the same dark, intense look she had seen back at the ice rink.

It was instinct, rather than any kind of rational thought, that made Maura reach up and rest her own hand on Jane's cheek. She didn't think about what she was doing when she closed her eyes and pressed her mouth against Jane's. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and all she was aware of was the softness and warmth of Jane's lips as she responded, the faint taste of chocolate, and the way that Jane fit so perfectly against her. She felt herself being pulled closer, Jane's other arm sliding around her waist, and gasped as a rush of heat swept through her. She had never kissed - or been kissed - like that before. She had never experienced something that left her trembling, tingling all over, desperate to pull back and breathe and yet so desperate for more. More of Jane's lips, more of Jane's touch...more of everything. She had never before felt like she didn't want it to end.

She had never thought a kiss could feel so right.


End file.
